


Broken Things

by Aikaterine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Play Fighting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Ragnarok, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12704490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikaterine/pseuds/Aikaterine
Summary: She knows she shouldn't drink but what harm can a little (secret) nightcap do? In which Valkyrie's plans to drink away the crazy events of the last few days alone are about to be rudely interrupted. Set post-Ragnarok on the new Asgard ship and written because fandom has finally worn me down. I'm fully aboard the Valkyrie/Loki ship. Contains fighting as foreplay and also fighting during sex.





	Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for quite some time. There is absolutely nothing resembling a genuine plot here and I'm not even sorry.

Broken Things

She waited until all she could hear was the low hum of the engines. New Asgard, Temporary Asgard, whatever it was now, was finally sleeping. She slipped silently from the cramped side-room where she had passed out earlier from exhaustion. This ship hadn’t been one built for luxury nor comfort so a pile of random blankets had been her mattress, her crumpled cape her pillow. She’d earned an annoying crick in her neck for that. But right now she had other matters to attend.

There was still the not so secret question of her addiction. Yet here she was, seeking it out in the middle of the night for fear that someone would see her, judge her. She knew the booze was bad. She knew it had been a coping mechanism, a way to forget. She even knew that there was still only so much abuse a super-powered Asgardian body could tolerate. Thor was quite correct. One day the drink might kill her.

Just one more drink. That’s all she wanted. One more drink to wash away how fucked-up her life had become over the past couple of days. She’d had a good gig on Sakaar. A boss who loved her work, nice living quarters and a decent wage to fuel her alcohol obsession. What more could anyone running away from their past want?

Now she was an Asgardian again. Not only an Asgardian, but a refugee. And she wasn’t sure if she even liked these people!

One of the few decent aspects of this ship was that it contained a canteen. Plus a fully stocked bar. Regardless of their purpose, the Grandmaster liked having a bar on all of his ships. You never know when you might need to throw a party. That’s what he’d always say to her.

She didn’t need to raid the cupboard very long before she hit the jackpot. A large, completely full and unopened bottle of spirits fell into her hand like it had always belonged. For a moment she considered a glass, then she realised it was pointless standing on ceremony. Nobody was here. Chugging from the bottle would do.

She took a seat at the head of the long table in the centre of the room and swung her legs up onto it, crossing her boots at the ankles. Her whole body shuddered as she bit the stopper from the bottle and tasted the first burning sip of the clear liquid within. It hugged her innards like an old friend, stripping away the pain until there was nothing left. She didn’t want to throw the entire thing down her throat. The night was young, at least it felt that way. Instead she simply savoured a small shot every now and again while staring at a small stain on the far wall.

Hopefully the dirt around here was food. Or just dirt. She didn’t want to dwell on it.

This was peaceful. She was rather enjoying being alone with her non-thoughts, letting the alcohol blur the lines between wakefulness and sleep. That was until a voice, not her own, split through her skull and caused her to jump with a start.

The voice was silky, arrogant and definitely not Thor “Do you not think that you’ve had enough?”

She removed her feet from the table and turned in her seat, defiantly taking another sip from the bottle. Of all the people to catch her drinking herself into a coma, it had to be Loki and his stupid smirking face. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough thanks,” she slammed the bottle on the table and swivelled the chair around to face him properly, folding her arms across her stomach. He may be a prince or whatever but she wasn’t going to bow. She slouched further into the chair as if to emphasise her point that he didn’t deserve any of her respect. “Generally when people are drinking alone it’s…because they want to be left alone,” she added.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were queen of the dining room,” Loki shot back.

She snorted “dining room” she said, attempting to tease him with imitation “this is just a place for slavers to eat slop once they’re bored of prodding prisoners. Hardly a place for the finer things,”

“And you’d know all about the finer things,” Loki responded, his gaze sweeping slowly over her slightly disheveled form and then flicking to rest mockingly on the still half-full bottle beside her.

She sighed, resigned to her fate now “what do you want Loki?”

Loki clutched a hand to his chest, feigning shock “why must I want something, you wound me!” he moved slightly closer, too close for her liking but it was becoming quite clear the only way to get rid of him would be to smack him across the face. Again. “I thought you might want some company,” he added with another smirk.

This time she made no effort to suppress a roll of her eyes and rather pointedly reached for the bottle, taking a much longer swig. “Something tells me you’re nobody’s idea of company,”

With a wave of his hand a faint golden glow swirled between his finger tips, forming a small shot glass “pour me some of that disgusting liquid and try me,” he said holding out the glass. As though pulled by an invisible string one of the many empty chairs scrapped across the floor towards him. He placed it directly in front of her and sat down, still holding out the shot glass, still smirking.

Gods she wanted to hit him.

“Alright” she huffed, taking the glass and pouring out a rather large measure. It was filled almost to the brim. He looked decidedly unimpressed at this. “If you want to talk to me, you have to drink like me, clear?”

“Fine,” he replied, wrinkling his nose slightly as he sniffed the contents of his glass.

She rolled her eyes again “don’t over think it, just drink it you idiot,”

He took a small sip, decided it tasted better than it smelled and then drained the glass with one elegant tip of his hand. To her surprise he offered his glass for more “what? It’s actually not that bad,”

“I told you,” she replied with a small laugh “perhaps you’re not such a stick-in-the-mud after all,” She handed the glass back to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, appearing genuinely hurt.

“Calm down trickster,” she replied “I only meant that the whole time on Sakaar you didn’t seem very fun,”

He lifted the glass to his lips, stopping short of actually drinking it and fixed her with a playful stare “oh I can be _very_ fun when I want to be,” he said wolfishly.

She knew she must be a little drunk now because only that could explain why she was transfixed, watching the ripple in his throat as he yet again drained the glass with one swallow. Her brain was sliding into unwelcome places involving her hands and his neck, and not necessarily to throttle him. Good thing it was quite gloomy in this canteen because she felt her cheeks starting to burn and it wasn’t just the booze.

For now he hadn’t noticed, or chose to ignore it as he signalled for another refill. “What’s your real name anyway? Surely the Valkyries all had names?” he asked, almost completely changing the subject. By turning it back onto her. Bastard.

She bristled at that “You mean you didn’t steal that information after your little excursion inside my head?” she said bitterly.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Loki responded, twirling his once again full glass in his long fingers “I can’t see everything you’ve ever thought or done all at once,”

“Well…it was a violation all the same,”

“I’m sorry,”

“No you’re not,” she said quirking a brow as she tipped more of the bottle down her throat.

Loki cleared his throat, apparently pondering his words carefully “if it makes you feel better” he paused to drink “I felt everything you felt. It wasn’t pleasant,”

“Your choice, you get to live with that now,” she shrugged.

“And that’s the only reason you beat me by the way, I was distracted,”

“I was kicking your arse and you know it,” she scoffed.

“I can beat you, maybe I didn’t want to,” he sneered, the glass evaporating from his hand to who knows where.

“I’m a Valkyrie remember,” she laughed “just you try,”

Oh he was angry now, she could tell. She expected another verbal barb, which is perhaps why she was caught unawares when he leapt out of his chair to grasp her by the throat. The bottle skidded off the edge of the table and smashed on the floor as he slammed her entire upper body against the wood. His grip was surprisingly strong, stronger than she imagined. He wouldn’t be capable of choking the life out of her but he’d certainly make his attempt unpleasant.

“You know I think I’ll just call you Val,” he growled as he loomed over her “seeing as you’re not in a sharing mood."

She clawed at his wrist, desperate to remove his hand. Damn, being half-hammered had really dulled her reaction time. She should’ve seen that coming. But she wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t fight dirty too.

Deciding that removing his hand was too difficult she changed tactic. The stupid fool had put himself in a vulnerable position and she took full advantage by bringing her knee up to his groin. She hadn’t expected to connect with evidence - _hard_ evidence that he was enjoying this encounter a little _too_ much.

He loosened his grip in shock and she started to laugh “what?” she spluttered “are you surprised it still works? How long has it been Loki?”

“Shut up!” he growled, slamming his forearm into her throat. He pulled away, leaving her flat on her back giggling uncontrollably.

“Oh come on don’t be embarrassed your highness,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her throat. “I’m certainly not,”

He’d returned to his seat, resting his chin on one of his fists. He was making a point of not looking at her, closing his eyes to further emphasise this when she slid off the table and stroked a hand across his face.

Then she plonked down on his lap, arms around his neck and legs either side of him. She deliberately wiggled around, pretending she was trying to get comfortable. The look on his face as his eyes popped open and his jaw slackened was priceless.

“Mind if I flirt?” she asked with a grin.

“Oh I’d say this goes beyond flirting,” he replied, shifting beneath her. She responded by pressing her hips even harder against him, enjoying the small whine that he desperately tried to suppress.

“I prefer the direct approach,” she said dismissively “so let’s fuck,”

“Anyone else could walk in here at any moment,”

“Boring,” she scoffed, nuzzling against his neck and twirling a lock of his hair around one of her fingers “everyone’s asleep and I bet you’ve got cloaking spell or something in that little box of tricks of yours,”

“Will you stop insulting my abilities,” he snapped.

She sighed exasperated “will you stop being a princess and fucking fuck me?”

That outburst earned her another slam into the table, only this time he didn’t have his hand around her throat. This time he kissed her savagely, biting her lower lip before pushing his tongue into her mouth. “That’s more like it,” she gasped between kisses, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer.

He trailed a few kisses from her lips, to her jaw and down to her throat. He sucked the skin between his teeth, which caused her to buck her hips up from the table. He growled as she yet again bumped against the hard flesh between his legs and she laughed, tugging his hair as a hint that she wanted to kiss him again.

“We’re wearing far too many clothes my prince,” it wasn’t reverence, he could hear that clearly from her mocking tone.

Quickly a knife materialised in one of his hands. He slid the blade underneath her top, slicing through the leather with one continuous cut. He smiled against her mouth as she began to protest that it was her only shirt (other than her armour) “I promise I’ll fix it afterwards,” he said, the knife disappearing as both of his hands crept along her torso to separate the now two parts of her top. He paid particularly close attention to her breasts of course, rolling a thumb over one of her nipples as he fastened his mouth to the other.

She pushed his head away so that she could sit up, shrugging the ruins of her favourite (only) shirt off her shoulders. She hooked her legs around him, crossing them over at his back, pulling him closer with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Perhaps we could save some time if you magic our clothes away instead,” she suggested.

“Oh?” he said, his hands on her breasts again “I thought you didn’t like my - what was it you called it? Little box of tricks?”

“I was making fun of you, you arsehole!” she sniggered, her hands fluttering over the leather covering his chest “besides, this looks like a lot of work,”

“It’s really not, perhaps you need to try harder” Loki replied with a grin.

“Someone is one smart comment away from talking himself out of getting laid,”

“Says the master of it,”

She playfully thumped her fist against his chest and then pulled him into another vicious kiss. A shiver travelled the full length of her spine as she felt the increasingly familiar tingle of magic envelop her entire body. Their remaining clothes melted away, shimmering as though made of dust. Still emboldened by the buzz from the alcohol, she had little time to feel self-conscious. This just felt right.

He trailed a hand down the length of her body, stopping just short of the place where she _really_ wanted him. Fingers splayed he skipped that entirely, moving on to her inner thigh.

She shifted her position slightly, simply so she could smack him on the back of the head “arsehole,” she hissed. “Total bastard and…” her breath caught in her throat as his fingers teased the sensitive flesh between her legs. But he wasn’t touching her in the way she expected. Instead it was as though white hot energy of pure pleasure was radiating from his fingertips, wrapping around every part of her, every nerve ending until it was almost too much.

“You were saying?” he smirked.

“Magic…is…cheating!” she gasped, throwing her head back in anticipation of the crescendo building within.

Which he denied her by pulling his hand and entire body away from her. “I’m sorry but a moment ago magic was completely fine. I didn’t realise there were rules,” his serious tone betrayed by the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

She wasn’t quite in the mood for his games now, leaping from the table and throwing her entire body at his. She settled with her legs once again wrapped around his back and grasped him by the neck, biting hard on his bottom lip as they kissed. “You’re an infuriating bastard, did you know that?”

Somehow in this position she still managed to push him towards a nearby wall. His back hit against it with a thud. He growled, spinning them both around so that now she was the one pinned up against the wall. He lifted her up slightly and in complete sync with him she tilted her hips just enough. She moaned quietly as he slipped inside her, then couldn’t resist adding a chuckle as she observed his eyes rolling in his head. “I guess it has been a while,” she quipped.

“Val darling…you have no idea,” he snarled playfully.

For a while she was happy to let him have his fun thrusting her against the wall. It felt extremely good after all. But she didn’t want to let him have all the glory. Gripping harder with her thighs she was able to take control of his entire body and force him to spin, slamming him into the wall again. He let her enjoy this new position for a few moments before responding once more in kind, managing to lead them across the room and throw her against a kitchen counter.

Their rather violent movements brought several pots, pans and cutlery crashing down from the cupboard above. But without breaking his concentration even for a moment Loki was able to levitate everything, settling the various objects softly against the floor, though some still did break. “Impressive,” she gasped kissing his throat and lightly nipping the skin between her teeth.

Then she reached beside them and brought a small frying pan crashing down against the side of his head.

Loki’s rhythm temporarily faulted as he stared down at her in shock. “Ow,” he protested.

“That’s for nearly waking everyone up,” she said, then she hit him a second time “and that’s for being a bastard,”

He roughly grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing hard as more warm magical energy spread through every one of her muscles. He leaned in such a way to nuzzle against her throat, ghosting his lips along her jaw and up to her earlobe, which he nipped between his teeth. “It’s much easier for me to finish this if you stop hitting me,” he whispered.

“You love it really,” she breathed back, sliding her hands down to his upper thighs and digging her nails into his flesh. He moaned in response, bucking harder against her.

He swiftly removed her from the counter, slipping out of her for a moment so that he could slam her against the table, this time on her stomach. Small cracks spidered across the surface on impact. He kicked her legs further apart and took her from behind, grasping the back of her neck with one hand. She could overpower him if she wanted, they both knew she could. Instead she let him have this moment of pushing her face against the table, let him have a moment of believing she was completely vulnerable. She rolled her hips in perfect time with his thrusts, the table rocking slightly underneath them with a very audible and rhythmic scrape. Yet still they attempted to stifle their moans. She bit down hard on her own lip as a particularly hard thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure shuddering outwards from the very centre of her.

“Val…” he hissed, slightly distracted. She seized her chance and hooked one of her feet backwards around his ankle, tripping him just enough so that he had to remove himself from her again. He looked surprised as she turned over, grasping at his body in order to push him towards the floor. He wasn’t so surprised that he didn’t have time to conjure a couple of large pillows however. They landed with a soft thud, locked in an embrace and breathing heavily against one another.

She hovered over him, so tantalisingly close but not enough to let him back inside. Not just yet. It seemed a strange moment to pause but he soon realised it was quite deliberate. She was shamelessly raking her gaze along his entire body, tracing the outline of his usually hidden muscles with her fingertips. She hesitated over a faded scar at the centre of his chest. Her shock was compounded as she reached one of his shoulders and upper arm. It seemed to be a very old wound and yet it remained an angry red, a scorch mark of some kind that followed the precise pattern of the veins beneath his skin.

He looked up at her dreamily through half-lidded eyes “worry not my sweet little Val,” he sighed “I’m simply another broken thing,”

“These are battle scars,” she muttered, now softly skimming her fingers along the red veins. She moved to touch her lips lightly against the scar on his chest. He shuddered, his heartbeat fluttering wildly beneath her. “You’re full of surprises,” she said, moving to grasp the base of him, guiding him back inside her. Then she slapped him. “And don’t call me _little,_ ” she warned.

A blissful chuckle escaped him as she rolled her hips, gently at first but then gradually gathering speed. He gripped her by the waist, pushing her against him so hard that they were no longer two people, simply two hearts beating in one form, moulded together to chase away whatever inner demons clawed at them both.

Loki’s hand slithered along her back, tugging at the hair tie resting at the nape of her neck. He pulled the thin scrap of material apart, her now free long dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she rocked back and forth. She tried to look annoyed but couldn’t, the fire raging in her centre overriding any other feeling.

“I prefer it down,” he said, gasping as she earned her revenge with a particularly wicked swivel of her hips. He chuckled accepting defeat. Then he pulled her by the hair, forcing her face closer to his, kissing her with such savagery that it was as though he wished to suck the very life from her.

They reached the summit together. There was no fighting now, no barbed words, only the hot flush of their flesh, the breathy moans of their names in each other’s ears. They stilled as the aftershocks washed over them, collapsing into a tangled heap of limbs and hair slick with sweat. Loki cupped her chin, lifting her head to meet her gaze. She responded with a long, lingering kiss then sat back to admire her handiwork. He looked utterly undone, his hair splayed behind him and his pupils blown wide in a mixture of lust and awe.

“This is a good look for you,” she teased.

“Would you like me to describe how you look at this moment?” he smirked “disheveled, sated,” he sat up, still keeping her in his lap “like you would quite enjoy _another_ rematch,” he added, which prompted her to hit him - gently this time, like she didn’t mean it.

She was just about to steal another kiss when the rather unwelcome sound of glass crunching under foot tore through their entire world. Her head popped up to peer over the table before the thought registered that she was still _naked_. Fortunately she still had a master sorcerer between her thighs. Loki had reacted much more sensibly, their clothes returning to wrap around their bodies in a shimmer of golden light. She was touched when she realised that true to his word, he had mended the top he had so viciously attacked with a blade.

They untangled from one another, rising steadily to their feet at the same time. No point in trying to pretend otherwise. Even with the pillows gone and the absence of nudity there was enough information to reach the correct conclusion.

There was another crunch as their unexpected visitor shifted their weight over the discarded broken bottle of booze.

They soon realised they were staring at the fairly vacant yet oddly sweet face of Korg.

“Oh hey guys you here to clean up this mess too?” he asked, seemingly oblivious. “Looks like a ghost got in here doesn’t it?” he added, gesturing towards a few shattered pots scattered all over the floor.

“Korg, have you been there long?” Val asked warily.

“Yeah…nah I just got here really,” he replied “Thor’s looking for his brother here,” he added, waving a large rocky finger at Loki.

Loki gave Val a searching look to which she simply shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. It was possible Korg really hadn’t seen anything, then again it was also possible he hadn’t understood anything he _did_ see. Nobody really wanted to ask how Kronans reproduced.

Korg busied himself fetching a broom from a cleaning cupboard “he’s on the bridge, waiting for you” he said as he started to sweep up broken glass, the broom comically small against his huge rock body. “What a mess,” he muttered to nobody in particular.

Loki cleared his throat, giving his leathers one last pat down to ensure nothing was out of place. To his surprise Val followed him out of the canteen, stopping him in the corridor with a quick grab of his wrist.

The door to the canteen was left open behind them but she didn’t seem to mind as she pushed Loki up against yet another wall. She cupped his face in her hands, pulling him in for one final hungry kiss. She winked as she let him go “save that one for later,” she said with a cheeky smile.

Loki curled his fingers underneath hers and raised her hand to his lips, placing a soft almost chivalrous kiss upon her knuckles. “Goodnight Val,”

He walked away towards the bridge, briefly wondering if his witless oaf brother would notice the slight swagger in his step.

 

**END**


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